


at the end as at the start

by onekisstotakewithme



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Almost Kiss, Ambiguous Fidelity, Ambiguous Relationships, Bisexual Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Compliant, Episode: s11e16 Goodbye Farewell and Amen, M/M, Mutual Pining, ambiguously requited love, callbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28740429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/pseuds/onekisstotakewithme
Summary: They sip their martinis the way they always have, and it’s hard to believe that always will soon be over.
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	at the end as at the start

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daylight_angel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daylight_angel/gifts).



_ “At the end as at the start, and through all the in-betweens, I love you.” _

* * *

They should be packing, trying to sort out the detritus of three years scattered around the swamp, should be trying to decide who has custody of which holey socks and guess which pattern they used to have.

Instead, they’re sitting on their cots, finishing off what’s in the still. 

Hawkeye still can’t believe it, can’t believe the war is over, that he’ll be  _ home  _ soon.

Can’t believe that BJ will be on the other side of the country when for so long he's barely been out of Hawkeye's sight.

And no matter how many times Hawk tries to bury himself in packing, his eyes are always drawn back to BJ.

BJ who is for some reason trying to find order in his packing, muttering under his breath about how he’s going to fit two years of his life into two suitcases as he folds his socks, still wearing that faded pink Henley that Hawk thinks started out white.

No matter how fractured things are between them, the silence is companionable, even if it feels like an ending.

They sip their martinis the way they always have, and it’s hard to believe that  _ always  _ will soon be over.

BJ catches Hawkeye staring – not that it’s hard, Hawkeye isn’t exactly subtle in his wistfulness – and blinks. “What?”

“What what?”

“You’re staring.”

Hawk grins, the lie slipping out easily. “I’m trying to picture you in civvies.”

“Nice ones, I hope.”

“Nothing less than tacky.”

“I’ve always thought you were a little ‘tackless’,” BJ quips halfheartedly, but the smile fades, as they stare at each other.

BJ looks as if he very much wants to say something.

“Do you want the dartboard?” Hawkeye blurts out, making him blink in surprise.

“Huh?”

“The dartboard,” Hawkeye says, and gives him a crooked grin. “Something to remember me by.”

BJ’s face is puckered in confusion for a second, before a grin – a real true California sunshine grin – spreads across his face. “Do you really think I could ever forget you?”

This hurts, this reminder that this is all over, and that hurts even more, that he could ever feel nostalgia about this place.

He just flutters his eyelashes. “Little ol’ me?”

“Hawkeye.”

“What?”

BJ leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Did you think I was just gonna go home and forget all about you?”

“W-Well I- I-”

“Did you really think that, Hawk?” BJ asks quietly, and there’s a note of pain in his voice, and Hawk flinches, because- “I guess that’s a stupid question, huh?”

“No.”

BJ reaches out, and takes Hawkeye’s hand, the contact  _ zinging  _ up Hawkeye’s arm and jolting right through his heart, his voice hesitant. “You’re nuts if you think I’m not gonna carry this place with me forever.”

“This place?” Hawkeye asks weakly, because BJ’s thumb is resting right on his pulse point, and he has to feel the way it’s started to flutter.

“Not this place,” BJ admits.

“Then what?”

“You mean  _ who.”  _ BJ shakes his head, a wry smile on his face. “Like I’m not gonna carry  _ you  _ around forever.”

“You’ve never had to carry me,” Hawk says, mock-affronted.

“Never,” BJ says, his voice gentle. “But it doesn’t mean I was never willing.”

They watch each other for a second, and BJ’s gaze is so unbearably tender that Hawk has to look away.

“Are you sure you don’t want something to remember me by?” he tries again.

“What about these?” BJ asks, holding up his martini glass.

“What about them?”

“They’re a set, aren’t they?” BJ asks patiently.

“Yeah, so?”

“So… if I take one and you take one…” BJ grins. “They’re a matched set, Hawk.”

“We’ll meet up someday for a drink.”

“Two years from now,” BJ reminds him softly. “Under the clock at Grand Central.”

Hawkeye smiles. “We’ll go dancing.”

And he can’t bear another second not touching BJ, has to reach up and cup BJ’s cheek.

Their eyes meet, and Hawkeye’s heart stutters to a stop.

“Hawk,” BJ breathes.

The camp is silent, and Hawkeye’s seen this scene in dozens of movies- even the orchestra waits with bated breath to see what kind of chord will be struck.

Two years pass in that split second, and for a moment Hawk is looking at BJ at Kimpo, and he didn’t know then what he knows now-  _ you kept me alive, Beej. _

They both lean in, eyes locked on each other the whole time, but just before Hawk’s lips brush BJ’s, he stops.

“Beej,” he says softly, pleadingly, “you’ve already got someone to dance with.”

They’re hovering on the edge of what Hawkeye has always wanted, BJ’s breath still warm on his face, but Hawkeye knows that whatever understanding they’ve reached is nothing compared to what is waiting for BJ at home.

And then BJ pulls away, a soft smile still on his lips, and Hawkeye  _ knows _ \- he is not alone in wanting.

The knowledge is bittersweet, tearing at him with two years of things left unspoken, and this could have so easily been a disaster, but the knowledge is also a gift.

Love, held out in an open palm, from that first day.

Hawkeye clears his throat, before saying “ _ ’If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster _ ’… then you probably should’ve cleared your calendar.”

BJ smiles. “Rudyard Kipling.”

They haven’t said it, they may never say it, but the  _ I love you  _ is implied.

The beginning is in the ending, but the ending never truly comes.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from one of my favourite books, "This is How You Lose the Time War" by Max Gladstone and Amal El-Mohtar  
> ~  
> And a happy mash-iversary to everyone, this is the third anniversary of my first-ever M*A*S*H story xo


End file.
